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"The Glass House" is one of those films you wouldn't mind spending a few quid on at your video store but resent parting with the best part of a tenner to see down the local fleapit. Despite a great cast and glossy direction, it's as empty, transparent, and characterless as the titular abode.
Ruby (Sobieski) is a bolshy teenager who is orphaned along with her younger brother when their parents are killed in a mystery car crash. Family friends the Glasses (Lane and Skarsgård) take them in, whipping the kids away to their Malibu ice palace filled with steel surfaces, modern art, and reflecting pools.
But it's not long before Ruby becomes suspicious of Mr Glass' lascivious gaze, his wife's apparently addictive personality, and hushed conversations about money. Could the Glasses be up to no good? Is the Pope Catholic?
A lazy screenplay (by the man previously irresponsible for "The Saint" and "Wolf") wusses out on the more interesting plotline of whether Ruby has an overly vivid imagination, and soon throws the usual clichés together, providing more questions than answers. Why are the Glasses so careless about their incriminating discussions when they're so cunning with a visiting social worker? If Ruby is from such a popular, stable family, why doesn't she have anyone to call for help? And the perennial query, why are baddies never killed first time?
The talented ensemble struggle bravely, but while Lane, Dern and Skarsgård are eventually reduced to embarrassing cartoons, only Sobieski ("Eyes Wide Shut") comes out in one piece. Gruff, vulpine, and convincingly shrewd, she shows she can certainly do a lot better.
